There's a tiny bit of background music for this chapter, so flip this on when the chapter indicates if you'd like to read along. Vanessa Carlton's "Ordinary Day": youtube…com/watch?v=zdmbjaReGmY, dailymotion…com/video/xidoap_vanessa-carlton-ordinary-day_music.
Anonymous Reviews:
Golden: Thank you for the review! I guess you'll see momentarily what comes next. ;)
Annie frowned when she got Armin's text the next morning: "Disabled trains so walking. Be there as soon as I can. So sorry!"
Sighing, she put her music player on shuffle and started warming up. No point in wasting time. Thanks to their rocky start, they were a little more behind than she'd like, but the two of them had been working their butts off to make up for it, so she couldn't really complain. The guy wasn't afraid of hard work by any means; she'd give him that.
"Disabled train, huh?" she thought absently as she stretched her legs out in front of her and reached for her toes. Her eyes flicked over to her bag as she bent her body. If she wanted to, she could easily look up on her phone which train line was currently out of service. And if it wasn't her line, she could throw that in his face when he tried to walk her home tonight. Wouldn't it be satisfying to see the look he'd get when she told him straight up she had proof he was lying about where he lived? She thought of the way Armin had tried to cajole his way into walking her those last few blocks the night before. "'Since we're going the same direction, we might as well walk together. Surely you can handle that. I mean if you already can't stand being anywhere near me we're in serious trouble. With the benefit in May, you're not going to be rid of me for another few months yet.'" She snorted slightly and pushed away the image of his impishly charming grin and that mischievous, disarming sparkle in his eyes; it was only through sheer stubbornness that she'd managed to resist those baby blues. Same direction, yeah right. If he actually lived near her, then she was the Queen of England. She rolled her eyes. Obviously, like a five-year-old, he'd turned walking her home into some kind of game.
…But as admittedly childish as it was, she found herself reluctant to just let him win. Since he wouldn't be dissuaded from his utterly unnecessary (but kind of sweet) chivalry, she really ought to be the adult and just let him walk her home without making a fuss. Being well into winter at this point, she certainly wouldn't begrudge the opportunity to jump into her warm bed more quickly, and considering how threadbare his mittens were, it would be kinder to him as well—she made a mental note to drag him shopping after dinner in honor of Take Better Care of Your Body, You Idiot Day. It was just…. She sighed and stood to lift her ankle onto the barre. What would happen if she did, she wondered. Would he stop walking her home? An unexpected lance of loneliness flitted through her, but before she could properly contemplate the emotion, she dismissed it with a realistic "Probably not." She shook her head with a soft upturn of her lips. While his claims to live near her were as fake as the matching knockoff Coach purses she and Mina had in their closets, she believed his desire to make sure she made it home safely to be genuine; he was just thoughtful like that.
It was kind of (endearingly) amusing that he was so concerned about her when she'd lived in this city far longer than he had. While it was true that two people walking together or one guy walking alone was less likely to be targeted than one lone petite female, people generally knew not to mess with Annie Leonhart. But she supposed she didn't hate having some company on her way home, at least, not anymore. When he'd first started walking her home, she really had resented it. With him tagging along, she'd lost her precious forty minutes of alone time to just decompress from the day. But somehow or another, she'd come to find that listening and talking to him left her just as much if not more refreshed than simply being alone with her thoughts had. And now, she couldn't imagine her day without pitting her will against his at some point along that fifteen-minute stretch of walking between the train and her apartment. She mentally flicked him in the head with an affectionate wrinkle of her nose. Twerp. Who asked him to come and weave himself so completely into her routine?
"He might lord his victory over me afterward, though," she thought as she switched to her other leg. He probably wouldn't do it often enough to make him insufferable, but she could see him using it as a reason for her to let him walk her all the way back. It was admittedly a difficult one to refute; so difficult, in fact, that it would almost be cheating to use it—because looking at her with those big doe eyes and jutting out that wavering bottom lip weren't cheating enough. The only question was whether he'd consider it cheating as well or if he'd just smile in that all-too-innocent, all-too-bright way of his and say, "All's fair in love and war," or something equally exasperating. Was there anything she could use to counter? There had to be something.
She eyed her bag again. She could check that train. Fight irrefutable reasoning with irrefutable proof. …But that would childish, not to mention a waste of time. They had a scant three months before the benefit and weren't quite finished choreographing. Her limited practice time should be spent practicing, not stalking her dance partner to try and get information to one-up him in the silly games he insisted on dragging her into. She ripped her gaze away from the bag and huffed. Besides, if the disabled train was anywhere along her route, she'd learn nothing. If she really wanted to know where he lived—so she'd know just how much of a liar he was—she could just ask someone.
"Like who?" her snarky inner voice demanded. She started doing floor stretches as she contemplated that. From what she'd gathered, Armin had moved to New York only a couple days before that first rehearsal, so the only people who were certain to know where he lived were Petra (for administrative purposes) and Eren and Mikasa (who were apparently his best friends since kindergarten). While it was possible he'd had other people over during those first two months, since then, he spent virtually all his evenings with her, so unless someone was a secret roommate, anyone else would be risky at best. Reiner and Bertolt had become fairly fast friends with Armin, but they were absolutely out of the question. They'd both blow things completely out of proportion: Reiner with his loud teasing, insinuating stupid things that weren't happening and Bertolt jumping to similar conclusions and fretting like a mother hen. No, thank you. The only thing that would be worse would be asking Ymir. That she'd never live down. She sighed. If only she was a cute, innocent angel like Krista or as random as Sasha who could both ask personal things like this without anyone thinking twice about it.
"Maybe I could get Krista to ask Armin, Eren, or Mikasa…" she briefly considered before shooting that down as well. Ymir would probably ask Krista why she was asking, and while Krista seemed decent at keeping secrets, Ymir wasn't her best friend for nothing. Then, Ymir would draw the same wrong conclusions Reiner and Bertolt would have, tell Bertolt, and then everything would be a mess. If Ymir didn't notice, Armin might figure it out despite Krista's unassuming disposition, and then she'd lose her element of surprise. Not to mention that he'd probably tease her like crazy about not being able to ask herself. If Krista asked Eren or Mikasa, they might think Krista liked Armin. She scowled at the ceiling, feeling inexplicably vexed. Whether Mikasa told Eren or Krista asked Eren directly, he'd definitely say something about it to Armin and then the utterly baseless, distasteful rumors would begin. She sniffed in disdain. All roads led to disaster, so it was better to just not.
Of the viable options, asking Petra would be the most discreet, but she never gave out personal information without a good reason, which would mean Annie'd have to come up with something that could get past even Levi. She sighed and put that on the back burner. It wasn't impossible, but it certainly wasn't something that could be achieved without a lot of thought, which was a dumb way to spend her energy at this point. But if she really needed something on him, she'd revisit it.
Which left the childhood friend route. She could ask Eren, but she wasn't sure if Mikasa would let her get close enough to do so. Annie rolled her eyes. She really needed to get it through her head that while Annie might've thought Eren was cute fifteen million years ago, she had no interest in him now. Eren was Mikasa's. No one questioned or challenged it. Annie sighed. If she couldn't get to Eren, she'd have to ask Mikasa. But she doubted she'd answer, and if she did, it wouldn't be without her having to explain their dumb (kind of fun) game, which she wasn't going to do seeing as it was none of Mikasa's business (and it was embarrassing). While the tan, green-eyed man was always the Oriental woman's top priority, Mikasa'd made it pretty clear that Armin was her precious little lamb. And if anyone messed with him, they'd have to answer to her. Annie paused and furrowed her brow. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't been very nice to Armin those first couple of months. Had he said or done something to keep Mikasa from making good on her threat? Her eyes gentled as she thought back, connecting the dots in her head. Even when she'd scorned him, he'd been quietly protecting her. "He really is too nice."
Annie stood with a shrug and rotated her head for one last stretch. She supposed she'd let him keep his secrets. Maybe she'd show him that Vietnamese bakery tonight instead of eating in. It wasn't too far from a shop that sold winter gear, and he'd commented yesterday that he'd been hankering some bánh mì. Chances were if he was running late because of the trains, he wouldn't have any food on him. She shook her head in amusement. For someone as intelligent, logical, and organized as Armin was, he was almost laughably inept at planning ahead when it came to basic needs. Nine times out of ten if either of them forgot to bring food, it was him, and she'd long stopped counting the number of times she'd had to remind him to eat when he got caught up talking or reading about something that particularly excited him. She, not his mysterious (useless) roommate, had been the one who'd convinced him (after half an hour) over the phone to stay home when the moron had wanted to come in last month with a fever of 102. She reached down for her music player and thought of the way his face would shine when he was demonstrating a new piece of choreography to her. How could someone so brilliant be so stupid at the same time?
Just as she was about to stop the music, the opening bars of Vanessa Carlton's "Ordinary Day" began. And after a moment's hesitation, she shrugged and straightened up. Why not? Armin wasn't here yet, so she had a little time. She hadn't done any Viennese Waltz in a while, and for the last few weeks, this song had appealed to her for some reason.
She raised her arms to clasp her invisible partner and envisioned a snow-covered landscape with a single cleared path. Snow lightly fell, a few wisps of wind playing idly with the flakes. Then, image firmly set in her mind, she began. She barely paid attention to the mirror as she waltzed. Her posture was perfect, her shoulders sloped gracefully, her arms strong and elegant, her footwork flawless. An ordinary day, an ordinary dance, but then, in her pristine snowscape, a figure appeared, the gold of his aura a bright beacon as he walked along staring up at the sky of grey.
Her lips quirked. It was Armin. It only then struck her how fitting this song was. She and Armin were ordinary co-workers, ordinary friends. He was an ordinary boy and she an ordinary girl. Day after day, they'd be together following their ordinary routine…. Just a boy, just an ordinary boy, but when he danced, when he talked, when he read, when he smiled, his ever-observant eyes would shine like the burst of the morning. …They shone that way now as he stopped and held out his hand, and as Annie's eyes closed in real life, she found herself in the scene accepting help up from where she'd been sitting. As she listened and walked alongside him while he talked of ordinary things that somehow seemed to be more amidst the gently dancing snow, real life Annie gracefully twirled and stepped, following the lilting cadence of his voice. She was a continuous flow of movement, delicate and radiant as a snowflake on the breeze.
Armin wheezed with his hand on the doorknob of what he'd come to consider their dance studio. Dancing kept him in good shape, but jogging across the better part of the city was still exhausting. He hadn't even slowed down when changing into his dance attire, practically throwing his things into his locker. Finally catching his breath, he lifted his head to see what Annie had been up to all this time, and his jaw dropped. Annie was…Annie was dancing. The difference from her usual dancing was subtle but stunning. Fluid, lyrical, walls down, inhibitions lost, she was glowing. He couldn't take his eyes off her. It was as if all this time, she'd been pretending to dance, and now, she'd fully come into her own.
Entranced, he pulled open the door, turning the knob so slowly, not even a telltale click could be heard. Reverently, he circled the room opposite her and gently placed his things down, not even a muffled thump created to distract him from the vision before him. He could watch her for an eternity. But as he observed from the sidelines, he could see that while she was perfection on her own, the scene itself was lacking. And he felt the familiar longing to move, that undeniable desire to be part of something beautiful. He was well aware that he was unworthy to fill the space in the scene before him, but he couldn't stop himself from pushing himself off the wall and approaching her anyway. Only completion was worthy of the caliber of a dance as beautiful as Annie's, and though he could only bring his own meager skills as an offering, he'd do his utmost to support her vision. He stopped a small distance away, hardly daring to breathe, and a moment later, he opened his arms and she danced into them, as if they'd known all along this was where she would go.
"Don't stop," he whispered when she jerked in surprise, his eyes half-lidded as he pulled her with him into a lift, her hands intuitively flying to his hips to assist as he spun them.
It didn't take her more than a second to lose herself in the reality as she had the dream. Viennese Waltz was like a whirl of snow—beautiful, delicate, intricate, cold, and detached—and that was how she'd always danced it. She was perfection when it came to Viennese Waltz. But now, here in Armin's arms as they moved from the lift into a fleckerl—the world spinning around and around almost dizzyingly before he swept them into a journey around the floor—the cold was thawing and turning into rain, cleansing and pure, light and fresh. The perfection was there, the form and sweeping turns that made Viennese Waltz beautiful, but here, with him in the soft smile he had for her and the strong arms around her as he led her from swiveling into a promenade pivot—their feet moving forward in sync before he turned them—there was wonder and laughter, breezy days and sparkling constellations, bursts of color and warm, dappled sunshine.
Hange nodded to herself as she watched discreetly from the doorway. She knew choosing Armin as Annie's partner had been a good move, even if it had taken a lot of convincing on her part to get the others to agree. There'd been something about him in the audition that made her see the small woman fitting by his side. His strange mix of stubbornness, open sweetness, and cunning would draw her out and her sharp, no-nonsense attitude and subtle supportiveness would give him the push he needed to find his confidence and strength. Seeing the way they glided across the floor in perfect sync, she felt a slight twinge of regret in deciding against giving them a Viennese Waltz, but she wanted to see how their weakest dances would evolve when they were together, so Waltz and Rumba it was. She smiled and silently shut the door. If they could carry what they had in this dance over to the other two, they'd be stunning.
As the song drew to a close, Armin broke hold and pulled Annie into a hug, her arms wrapping around him and her head tucking into the crook of his neck naturally in response. They held the moment, cradled in each other's arms, his smile in her hair, until he finally let go and beamed at her. "That was wonderful! You're such a beautiful dancer, Annie." He looked slightly rueful. "I'm so lucky to have you as a partner. I wish I could dance as flawlessly as you. Your lines, the flow, the expression, it was just…I mean…." He blew out a breath and finished, "You were perfect, absolutely perfect." With a slight chuckle, he joked, "It's too bad we didn't get Viennese Waltz, or we could've just performed that right there." When she didn't respond, he opened his eyes and his face creased in concern at the struck look on her face. "Annie…?"
Annie's heart beat strangely in her chest as his words washed over her. He was wrong. That dance just now wasn't her. She was technical and frosty, not lyrical and vibrant. But at the same time, she couldn't deny that dance had come out of her. And she was baffled. How had it happened? She couldn't comprehend it. Then, all at once, when Armin's eyes lowered in self-deprecation, she knew: it had been him. He'd been the one to unlock this within her. He'd made her beautiful in a way she'd never been before and that beauty was deeper and richer than what she'd achieved on her own. She was the one who was lucky to have him as a partner, not the other way around. But…how had he done it?
She didn't realize she'd started crying until his fingers brushed featherlight against her lashes. "Hey," he murmured, his soulful eyes gentle and caring, "what is it?"
She ripped away from him abruptly, slamming the wall down. "I need coffee."
He blinked. "Coffee." He'd never seen her drink anything more caffeinated than green tea.
"I'll be right back. I think there's a shop somewhere around here."
His eyebrow furrowed; she seemed agitated. "I'll go with you."
"It's broad daylight, Armin. I hardly need an escort."
"I didn't have a chance to stop by the store to pick up food since I was running late. Maybe we can turn this into an early lunch?" He gave her that tentative smile she'd never been good at refusing, and today it made her stomach feel weird too, as if it was doing somersaults.
"…Whatever."
She breezed into the first café she crossed and immediately regretted it. It was one of those quaint, cute ones people would go to on dates. The walls were sanded wood of warm brown with burgundy-cushioned booths lining them; the tables were a crisp, mellow cream; and watercolor and acrylic paintings of various landscapes tastefully decorated the walls. At the front of the shop was a large show window that filled the airy space with natural light, though at strategic intervals, ceiling lights cast the shop in a warm, homey glow. In front of the window and throughout the rest of the restaurant, there were small round tables with wooden high-back chairs—a lighter, gentler brown than the walls—fashioned in a loopy design with a round, burgundy cushioned seat. Each table was perfect for two and tucked into the space at just the right intervals to maximize the space while giving those that sat at them the illusion of privacy and intimacy. Soothing, instrumental music with an upbeat feel permeated the shop weaving itself among the comforting whirr of machines blending and steaming various drinks, and the air was perfumed with the gently mingling scents of coffee, warm bread, and sweet baked goods, filling the heart with a sense of safety and welcoming invitation. Annie resisted the urge to bury her face in her hands. She couldn't have tried to choose a more awkward location. But she straightened her shoulders and held her head high, refusing to show weakness. She just hoped this place wasn't cripplingly expensive.
Armin carefully took a seat across from his dance partner, a little confused by her choice. Her shoulders were a little tenser than usual making him think she wasn't entirely comfortable, and from the way she accepted the menu from the hostess, it seemed she hadn't been here before. They'd never gone anyplace she hadn't been before. Shrugging, he chose not to dwell on it and instead fished around in his jacket pockets and pulled out an oval case.
Annie looked up when she heard a soft snap and widened her eyes. Armin wore glasses. How had she not known that after all this time? Her face heated a little as she watched him peruse the menu, glasses perched lightly on his nose. The blocky black frames made him look older and more intelligent. It was pretty hot. She immediately blanked her expression and chased the thought around and around in her head trying to comprehend it. "Hot? I think he's hot? Sure, he's sort of cute with that boyish enthusiasm and a little charming with his dorky code of chivalry, but hot? Armin's not—" her brain derailed when he flicked his tongue out to wet his lips and bite the right corner of his mouth in thought, and she immediately fixed her eyes to the very safe menu and kept them there until the waiter came by to take their orders.
After their menus had been cleared away, Armin leaned on his hands and smiled at her. There was her stomach flipping again. "So coffee and sandwiches aren't part of the DEFCON system?"
She just shook her head, her eyes staring out the window without really looking. What was wrong with her? She'd never had trouble meeting his gaze before.
Armin frowned. She was acting as distant as when they'd first met. "Annie, what's wrong? Do you not feel well? We can always practice another day."
"No," she negated tersely, "we're already behind. I'm fine; it's nothing I can't handle."
"I don't want you getting si—"
"Drop it." Her tone brooked no arguments. They sat in awkward silence for a long moment before Annie sighed and searched for a conversation topic. It wasn't fair to take her newfound weirdness out on him, and she refused to let these unwelcome…reactions get in the way of months of hard work. Casting her eyes back on his troubled face, she murmured, "So…glasses, huh?"
"Huh?" He looked up in surprise. Usually he was the one who had to draw her back into conversation. When she raised a prompting eyebrow and motioned with her eyes, he finally processed what she'd said. "Oh, yeah," he chuckled as he slid them off. Annie mentally cursed when he didn't become any less attractive. "They're for reading. I just have a little bit of trouble focusing up-close, so I don't need to wear them all the time."
"Why haven't I seen them before? You read all the time."
He cocked his head. "I do?"
She nodded. "For the last week or so you've been reading about cartography and deep sea imaging whenever you've had a moment to yourself."
"Oh yeah, that's right. I forgot I'd brought that." He laughed and rubbed his neck. "Most of the time, I only read on the train, so I usually leave my glasses in my locker. Since I was in such a hurry today, I forgot to put them away."
She gave him a pointed stare. "It's not that far to the locker room…."
"I had a feeling you were going to say that," he sighed ruefully. "Are you going to start policing my glasses habits too?" he teased, inviting her to share in the joke.
She glanced out the window again, fighting back the heat she felt rising in her cheeks. "It's not my problem if you want to ruin your eyes."
"True," he chuckled.
"How come you've never used them to read a menu? We've gone out to eat plenty, and you have all your stuff with you."
His eyes softened in affection. That was easy. "Because you've been everywhere we've gone before and know what's good already. Your recommendations have yet to steer me wrong, so I just randomly choose something from what you like. This is the first time we've gone someplace you've had to look at a menu."
She moved her gaze over to the rest of the shop, embarrassed that he'd paid attention to something like that. Good grief, this place really was the perfect date location. This was beyond awkward; why couldn't he have the decency to feel the same? "Hopefully they have good coffee."
"And sandwiches."
Her mouth twitched into an almost invisible smirk. Glutton. "And sandwiches."
Since the mood had considerably lightened, Armin allowed the conversation to lull and instead studied Annie as she went back to staring outside. What was going through her head, he wondered. She was in her thinking pose: chin cradled in the palm of her hand and tongue tucked into her left cheek. Her lips were tilted just a fraction down, so it wasn't something particularly unpleasant, but her brow was lightly furrowed, which meant she was trying to solve something or find an answer to a question. The faraway look in her eyes indicated that whatever it was was unfamiliar or unexpected and thus troubling. He bit the corner of his lip. What sort of problem lay at the intersection of all these criteria? Was there anything he could do to help? Would she even let him help? He blinked when a plate appeared in his line of sight, breaking his stare. Right. Restaurant. Eating. Food. He'd completely forgotten.
Once they'd dismissed the waiter with quiet thank yous, she reached over and swapped one of her triangles with his. "What?" She puckered her eyebrows at him after taking a couple bites of her turkey club.
It was only then that he realized his mouth had fallen open. He must've looked pretty dumb. "You're sharing food without me dragging you into it."
She rolled her eyes. "You were just going to beg, plead, and guilt-trip me with those big puppy-dog eyes to trade some in a few minutes anyway. Might as well bow to the inevitable."
He grinned and gave a small shrug that said, "Guilty as charged," then reached over and squeezed her hand, making her pulse stutter. "Thanks, Annie. You're the best."
She carefully extracted it and returned to her food. "Better believe it."
Annie hardly heard a word Armin said as he chattered brightly, choosing instead to think about what had just happened. There wasn't any way around it: she was falling for Armin. What in the world? She was smarter than this. Wasn't she the one who'd warned Bertolt of the drawbacks of being romantically involved with your dance partner? Ugh. She scrutinized her lunch companion surreptitiously. As ridiculous as it was, while she'd looked at Armin a lot over the months they'd spent together, she'd never really looked at him. It wasn't that she'd considered him unattractive or anything, she just honestly had no reason to pay attention to that sort of thing. Even if he was the first dance partner turned friend she'd had outside the people in the company, she wasn't going to see him again after eight months, so what did it matter if she remembered what his face looked like? She supposed that last part was still true, but now she wanted to look.
To help maintain the illusion of paying attention, she started with his hair. Chin-length locks of burnished gold framed a round face with an adorably pointed chin. His hair had been slightly mussed by the wind, making her fingers itch to comb through it to see if it felt as soft and smooth as it looked. High, delicate cheekbones flanked an adorable button nose that lent youthful innocence to the rest of his face, and her eyes rested on his full, chapped lips, watching the shape of them change as he spoke of worlds she'd never known existed until he'd come into her life. His voice wasn't overtly masculine, but there was something about its rich tone and colorful timbre that reached deep within a person and never left. Her gaze swept surreptitiously over his shoulders, arms, and chest. They weren't particularly broad or muscular, but there was definition, strength, and something undeniably male there that made her heart flutter unsteadily. It was a bit of a trick, but she finally managed to find an angle where she could look at his eyes without specifically meeting his animated gaze. Even when she'd considered him beneath her notice, she'd grudgingly admired his eyes: clear and blue like the mingling of the sky and the sea, swirling with knowledge, enthusiasm, and warmth. All emotions flickered through his gentle, open eyes.
She chewed carefully, holding her poker face like a cloak around her. This was totally not her fault. With Armin's tenacity in reaching out to her, his overall thoughtfulness, and his physical attractiveness, it would've been stranger for her not to fall for him. What female could resist such a combination? She paused for a moment when brushing some crumbs off her fingers. Now that she thought about it, why didn't he have a girlfriend? Was it because he was short? Was it because he lacked confidence? "Probably that one," she reflected.
While Armin had gotten a lot better at not qualifying the living daylights out of every suggestion he made, he still didn't seem to quite believe he was as good at anything as he was. Whenever he told her his own hypotheses based off things he'd read, he'd often precede his comments with things like "This is just my opinion," "There isn't currently any evidence supporting this," and "I'm no expert." Not to even mention how long it'd taken her to convince him to speak up when they danced together if he wanted to try something; she'd scathingly called him out on more than one occasion on wasting both of their time if he had a solution and refused to present it simply because of something as trivial as her potentially not liking it. While she could see how that shaky confidence might be a turn off, he was kind, intelligent, easy to talk to, good-looking, interesting, and could dance; he ought to be hitting girls off with a stick. Well, she supposed it was just as well. Now that she was interested in him herself, she didn't really want to share.
She hid a small frown by sipping her coffee, the caffeine skittering through her nerves like a live wire. She'd likely never see him again in a few months, so pursuing a relationship would be stupid. This was probably a good thing: she'd never been good at flirting and dating, and they had an enjoyable friendship. She poked him and nodded at his plate to remind him to eat, and he took a bite and shot her an affectionate, appreciative smile in response. Her heart gave a languid twirl before stumbling. She hid a sigh in her mug. "Telling him how you feel would be pointless," she firmly reminded herself. It was just a simple, unprofessional, inappropriate crush. She'd get over it; she'd done it before, and she would do it again. But as she watched the man who'd opened up a new dimension of dance to her talk happily about whatever it was she hadn't been paying attention to, she couldn't help but think, "There are worse people I could like."
Say what? I actually wrote some dancing? =P The song and feel for the dance as well as that lift Armin started with I got from here: youtube…com/watch?v=Q7HrlN0YQjs, vbox7…com/play:d559f429. When I saw that lift at the end, I couldn't not put it in. Even if Annie's not wearing a skirt in this chapter, it was just too gorgeous to ignore. Whenever I used a dance term, I tried to give a quick little description of what it looked like, but in case I failed to get the step across, this is a fleckerl (youtube…com/watch?v=El_N0Ywmr7E) and I had a video of the swivel into a promenade pivot, but the account was apparently terminated while I was writing this chapter. =/ I wanted to put in more dance steps, but since I didn't have an actual routine plotted out in my head, I figured I'd focus more on describing Annie's mental shift.
For those of you who can't view Youtube videos in your country, I'm sorry, but please look up the steps yourself if you're interested since I doubt the same instructional videos will be available on multiple streaming sites.
I hope I managed to keep Annie in character. I feel like it's hard to keep her in character when you're writing from her point of view. While Annie's nowhere near emotionless, I find it hard to play up that quiet, stoic side of her when her emotions and thoughts are on display for the world to see. (X_X)